


Visions of Sugar Plums

by Kian



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Caramel apples, Christmas Fluff, Clint Feels, Clint in the Circus Years, Deaf Clint Barton, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Clint Barton, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 07:38:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3111506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kian/pseuds/Kian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The little boy kicked his legs against the painted drum barrel, back, forth, back, forth, listening to the dull thud of his heels as they collided against the hollow metal container.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visions of Sugar Plums

**Author's Note:**

> I seem to be experiencing a bit of a theme with my drabbles this holiday season, but I figure if I write about restful holiday moments, maybe I'll be able to steal a little of the restfulness for myself.
> 
> Unbeta-ed, so if you see anything awful, let me know.

The little boy kicked his legs against the painted drum barrel, back, forth, back, forth, listening to the dull thud of his heels as they collided against the hollow metal container.

Far off, under the Big Top, it’s the middle of the show. He knew because they’d just taken the elephant pair, Granny and Little Girl, on past to wait outside the performance entrance, their harnesses and head pieces in place.

He’d gotten his chores done and now nobody would be looking for him until it was time to clean up. He knew enough by now to get out of the way of the rest of the performers and vendors while the circus was in full swing. He also knew enough to know where the candy apple man, Opie, dumped the apples that wouldn’t sell, on the rare day that he ruined a batch.

The little boy had gotten very good at nabbing a ruined caramel apple or two without being seen, because Opie had boxed his ears the first several times he’d tried. But it’d gotten to where, once or twice a month, if he was careful, he could sneak a little pile of rejected sweets and treats for the half hour he had to himself every show night.

 _Thump, thump, thump_ went his feet while the strung lights all across the circus grounds swung gently with the wintry breeze. Apple juice was dripping off his hands, sticky and sweet, and the caramel was tacky against the roof of his mouth. _Thump, thump, thump._

Barney surprises him on his bad side, but he must’ve been in a good mood, because he just bumps the boy over a bit on the barrel and pushes up beside him.

“Lilah” — the bearded lady — “thinks it might snow later,” Barney said, leaning forward toward the little boy's good ear and tilting his head so his mouth was visible.

The little boy _hmms_ around his next bite of apple and looked up at the sky along with his brother, trying to spot any evidence of snow on the breeze.

“You got another one of those?” Barney asked after a minute.

The little boy nodded, pulled a brown paper bag from behind him on the barrel and passed it to Barney.

They sat for a few minutes, eating their caramel apples and waiting for the snow.

A cheer went up from the Big Top, and Barney nudged him in the ribs, pointed up at the first swirl of snowflakes as they began to fall.

And when Clint thinks back on all the Christmases he’s had — with his parents, at the orphanages, in the army, at SHIELD, and on his own in the quiet of his apartment — he’s pretty sure that might have been the very best one.

* * *

end

 


End file.
